


Failure

by Elane_in_the_Shadows



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, F/M, Grief, War Storm, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 13:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15268824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elane_in_the_Shadows/pseuds/Elane_in_the_Shadows
Summary: WAR STORM SPOILERS!! PROCEED WITH CAUTIONPrompt: What if Mare had died?





	Failure

**Cal POV**

**The lights go** back on when Farley enters the store room, just after five minutes of welcome solitude in the dark. I’ve been here like that since Julian left me for important meetings or whatever he’s required at. I hope he does well where I’m not needed. It could be funny how useless I am already, how quickly I was discarded. I don’t care. It’s what I chose when I gave up the crown that was never supposed to outlive the battle.

The crown wasn’t, but Mare certainly was.

If Farley is surprised to find me in the unlit room, she doesn’t show it. She moves toward me sitting on the ground – and then does nothing, just stands in front of me in relatable helplessness.

“Turn the light off again,” I groan. There was a reason it was off – I don’t want to see the light, I don’t want electricity around me. I don’t want to be reminded of _her_. After we found the bodies, I ran through the palace, into corners I could hardly remember, strange places that hold none of my memories of Mare, or of Maven. As if I don’t think of her all the time by myself.

Now I don’t even have the darkness to hide the bloodstains on my boots and trousers, already brown and black and dried hard. Horrible reminders of the battle today, and most of the blood is from Mare and my brother. I can’t turn away from them, even as they drag me into an abyss. My fingers twitch, my jaw grinds, my eyes water. I ball my hands into fists and force myself to look up. “Turn off the light,” I repeat, now quieted but sharper. I look into Farley’s eyes and her sight is another stab in the chest. Gone is her confident posture, her glare replaced by tearstains and she’s frozen instead of determined. I’ve never seen her so clue- and helpless, despite her own ordeals before. It takes her seconds to react, to step aside and reach for the switch.

The intermezzo made the darkness more promising, but of course that was an illusion. Hiding doesn’t bring Mare back, nor Maven; it only reveals me as a selfish coward.

Farley slumps down beside me, too close. Our thighs and hips touch and I startle. I think she’s miscalculated the distance but she doesn’t move, our contact remains. I don’t like it. It’s a tether to this world, one without Mare. The touch reminds me of my own body and the last times I’ve touched Mare – did she say it back then, in Harbor Bay? “This is the last time,” not knowing it’d be the truth? No, that wasn’t the last time, she hugged be back on the bridge, full of expectation to hug me many times more.

I stay where I am, choosing the commiseration and warmth Farley offers. Because I still hate being alone and out in the cold.

Farley shifts and wriggles in the darkness; I think I glimpse her leaning her head on her knees before I hear her cries.

It’s strange to realize that she can only cry in the shadows, too.

“I’ve failed,” she mutters eventually. “I promised Shade to look after Mare and protect her, and I failed again and again, until I couldn’t undo my mistakes any longer.” Her sobs grow louder and stronger and when I finally bring myself to stroke her back, I notice the tears rolling down my own cheeks.

I know. I know this too well. Failure is the burden and guilt much blacker and graver than the shadows I hide in, and it’s like a sword sharper than any real weapon. _I_ was the one who sent Mare to kill Maven _, I_ was the one who too coward to do this myself, avoiding to see my brother for one last time.

I’ve never deserved Mare.

Rubbing her back hardly calms Farley; instead makes her speak again. “I was asked were to bury her,” she says. “Naturally, they asked me. And I had no idea. Bury her here in Norta, as a war hero? But how can I tell her family to come back into this dreadful country? Should Mare – ” she sniffs, quieting her words. “But returning her to Montfort feels as wrong, to ship her off into a strange land she hardly knew, to be forgotten – I don’t know what to decide!” she snaps, and sounds astounded at her own outburst. “I didn’t know,” she repeats in a whisper, “and I had enough of making decisions and giving orders. I couldn’t wait to run away, leaving Kilorn behind, to let him deal with it.” She releases a cruel sound, something between a sob and a cackle. “He has to know better, doesn’t he? Sometimes, I think you and I are just intruders in their lives. Stupid intruders who only make everything worse for them! For her!”

“I …” I begin, my voice drowning in her cries. But she noticed me, and suddenly, she squeezes my wrist. “Don’t,” I say, louder now. “At least you were there for her, unlike me, the disappointment, the traitor. You’re family.”

“Ha…!” she snorts. “And how great family I am!” I love them you know? I love them all. The Barrows were there for me, welcomed me, help me. And now I don’t know if I dare to meet their eyes again.”

I nod, then realize she can’t see. I find her hand and squeeze back. “Yes,” I murmur. I’ve never become that close to Mare’s family. I hesitated to, after I’ve lost my own. I barely dared to befriend Kilorn and enviously watched the Barrows from afar. I say, “but I’m sure you’re still ….”

“What should I say to them, ‘thank you for taking care of my daughter, so sorry I couldn’t do the same for yours’?!” she exclaims.

“No, of course not – “

“But whatever I’ll say, I’ll mean exactly that,” she insists.

I swallow, hesitate. “Farley,” I say, “no. Don’t let that be the words that matter.”

“And what about you, Cal?” she retorts, and I remain silent because she’s right. I don’t plan to ever show myself to the Barrows again. To some extent, I came to this dim room to avoid even Kilorn, although he deserves better than to be left alone in our shared grief.

“Obviously I don’t want to lose them as well,” Farley utters eventually. “But it feels selfish. Like I only care about my own happiness. I always felt bad about it, when so much remains to do, so many having it worse than me. And yet, I still cherish every time Shade touched me. I was never as happy as when I held Clara for the first time, or felt as victorious when I first made her stop crying. How can this be …?

“But of course, we need these small private moments, don’t we? Or we’ll lose our souls in the war and the suffering. No victory will ever be as good as a true happy, beautiful moment, not after all we gave up for it …”

Her words ring true, down to my bones. But to me, it’s the opposite of relief. “Everything comes at a cost,” I say, coolly, even, as I realize that whenever I felt content and happy, it was at the expense of people like Mare.

Farley understands this too, and finally, she moves away, break our connecting touch. “Well, nothing Mare ever paid for was fair,” she says. I expect her to get up and leave, to let me pity myself alone again, but she doesn’t. She stays, so we both remain her, in the miserable darkness of our hearts.


End file.
